Unlikely // Tate Langdon (AHS)

• Chapter 2 •

Tate awoke to the sound of his mother banging on his bedroom door.

"Tate, you're going to be late. Get your ass up or I'll come in there and make you." Constance warned before walking back down the hallway to check on Addy.

Tate groaned as he tried to open his eyes. The light seeping through his bedroom curtains was too much for him. He liked it dark. Combined with severe sleep deprivation Tate was struggling to pull himself together. Slowly he sat up and made his way out of bed to his bathroom. After showering and throwing on some clean clothes he headed downstairs to get some coffee. Tate's day didn't start until he had coffee. If you spoke to Tate before he had consumed his first cup of the day, you hadn't spoken to Tate, you had spoken to his shell and he most definitely would not remember the conversation later.

Upon arriving in the kitchen he found his mother cooking eggs and bacon for breakfast. His father clearly hadn't come home last night. She did this when he didn't come home. Constance autonomously started carrying out the roles a mother should fulfil when Hugo spent nights elsewhere, fucking god knows who. She would clean the house, cook three meals a day and make sure her children were up for school. Tate thought it must be some kind of control thing. She attempts to control the parts of her life that she can when the part she can't control goes wrong. But he was no psychologist. Personally he preferred it when she was her usual neglectful self. At least then she would leave him to his own devices.

As he shuffled across the kitchen to the coffee pot his mother moved over to him and, putting her hands on either side of his face, kissed his cheek before moving a strand or two of golden curls out of his eyes. Tate's face distorted into an expression of disgust before he pulled away and proceeding to the coffee pot.

Constance watched adoringly as Tate poured himself a coffee and rubbed his face in an attempt to wake himself up. "Look at that golden morning light hitting those beautiful curls of yours. You always were my gift, Tate." Constance praised as she continued to look at him.

"I'm gonna be late." Was all Tate replied monotonously before finishing his coffee and heading to his room again to grab his school bag. Having found his black backpack he scooped it up and headed out his front door.

As he got to the gate he stopped and allowed Heather to pass before he slipped out and into the street. Heather gave him a small smile before continuing on her way. This was a daily occurrence for Tate. Apparently he and his neighbour Heather left for school at the same time because each day without fail, as soon as he got to the gate, she would stroll past, send a small smile his way, and continue on to school.
Tate slipped his headphones on and walked the rest of the way to school behind Heather and the group of friends she met further up the street. As he changed his song he overheard their conversation and discovered they were critiquing the black converse she had on. Tate had noticed they were new and thought they were pretty cool. She had never worn a pair of those before. She probably would never again with the way her friends were talking about them. You'd think she had committed a crime. They wanted to know where her little black pumps were. Uninterested, Tate began playing his next song and lost himself in the sweet sounds of Nirvana.

Upon arriving at school, Tate headed into the building to escape the sun. Tate could never understand why people liked it, he just felt hot and bothered and he hated to sweat. He made his way through the halls to the cool retreat of the school library where he could listen to his music and fully wake up before his first lesson in 5 minutes time.

The bell went to signal for everyone to move to their first lesson of the day so Tate headed to English. Luckily, he actually liked this subject. He liked that he could just sit in silence for an hour and read or do some creative writing - whatever the teacher set that day. Sometimes the teacher even allowed headphones. That earned brownie points with Tate.

Daniel, one of Tate's friends, leaned over and whispered "What are you drinking tonight? I know a guy who can get us some seriously good shit that fucks you up so good when your drinking vodka."

"Good job I have a litre bottle of vodka stored under my bed then." Tate smirked.

"Knew you wouldn't pussy out. We're meeting in the graveyard at 8:30." Daniel grinned.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna be late, man. I got something to do first." Tate muttered as he rolled his eyes.

"Family stuff?" Daniel questioned.

"Family stuff. Can't get out of it. I'll be there though. Save me some of the good shit." Tate replied before continuing with his creative writing.

The rest of the day was uneventful for Tate. He attended his lessons, spent lunch out behind the music block smoking weed with his friends and walked home blasting Green Day through his headphones. He was glad he was high. He was dreading tonight. He could think of literally hundreds of other things he would much rather be doing with his Friday night. Instead he was attending an eightieth birthday party with his family.

As suspected he found his mother cooking homemade soup and bread for their dinner. Tate grabbed a bread bun fresh out the oven and headed up to his bedroom.

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A/N:

Annnd there's chapter 2!

Sorry if this chapter feels a bit boring but it's a filler chapter to provide some necessary info.

I also teased a bit of Heather right there! She didn't really have much of an interaction with Tate in this chapter but I promise she will be very much present in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading!

M x